


Leave the Light On

by m3aculpa



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: M/M, One-sided Incest, Sexual Content, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-24 00:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m3aculpa/pseuds/m3aculpa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't like Sherlock to be this careless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave the Light On

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Leave the Light On  
>  **Fandom:** Sherlock **  
>  **Rating:**** R  
>  **Characters/Pairings:** Sherlock, John, Mycroft, Sherlock/John, vague one-sided Mycroft/Sherlock  
>  **Warnings:** Voyeurism, can be construed as one-sided incest  
>  **Word count:** 374 words  
>  **Summary** : It wasn't like Sherlock to be this careless.  
>  **a/n:** First attempt at Sherlock fic and I’m ridiculously nervous. I’ve only seen the first episode, so don’t expect anything too fancy.  
> 

They’ve propitiated the flat across from 221B Baker Street. Sherlock’s dangerous after all and Dr Watson is an interesting development that Mycroft’d like to keep an eye on. Of course he wouldn’t let anybody but him handle the situation; it was _his_ brother after all. So everybody who would be watching his brother at his most vulnerable was people Mycroft could trust.  
   
Mycroft’s glad he decided to stop by today. He’s decidedly gladder that he’s the only one here. With a frown, he shakes his head; Sherlock is usually more careful than this. It’s probably the good doctor’s influence, which has reduced Sherlock’s natural paranoia. The old Sherlock would have made sure that the blinds were closed.  
   
Their apartment is well-lit and Mycroft can see everything clearly. He can see Sherlock bent over the desk and the doctor is moving behind him. The muscles in Sherlock’s back play under the shadows as he meets the doctor’s thrusts. But his face is strangely serene. Vulnerable. It strikes Mycroft for one reason only: for the first time in years Sherlock’s not thinking more than he’s _feeling_. He’s surrendered himself to the sensation.  
   
Mycroft feels a twinge of jealousy. He’s not sure of whom he’s jealous of; Sherlock or Watson. He might have wanted the doctor unconsciously. Or he might have wanted to be the one to make Sherlock let go and feel for a while. He’s shamefully hard, though. Just from watching them. He knows he shouldn’t. His body doesn’t care that it’s wrong (and if he’ll dare admit it, not his mind either).  
   
Sherlock’s eyes suddenly pop open, as if sensing that somebody is watching him. Straight across the street, he stares at Mycroft with an expression of horror. He twists and grabs hold of the doctors arms (he’s bracing himself against the desk). Trying to dislodge him, it only serves to make Watson aware of the voyeur.  
   
It doesn’t make him stop. Instead he leans down and kisses Mycroft’s brother (and he feels a twinge of rage at that). It’s wet and obscene; it’s a kiss for show. But there’s such an emotion between them that Mycroft feels ashamed.  
   
Watson breaks the kiss and draws the blinds.  
   
The next day Mycroft cancels the surveillance.


End file.
